Old Instinct: A Detroit: Become Human Story
by deviantdaydream
Summary: A year after the peaceful revolution, Connor still finds himself having troubles adjusting to his deviancy - especially since Hank seems adamant about finding him a girlfriend. Between the newest case involving a new Red Ice ring and a budding romance, Connor finds himself facing a greater opponent than he ever has: learning what it truly means to be human.
1. Chapter 1: Too Close to Home

Chapter One: Too Close to Home

Rain pelted heavily against the windows of the old car as it pulled lazily through the streets of downtown Detroit. The sound of the downpour was almost deafening inside the vehicle, nearly drowning out the arguably one-sided conversation commencing between the two occupants. The driver of the old Ford was waving one hand about wildly, animating his point to his passenger. Lieutenant Hank Anderson kept glancing back and forth from the puddle-ridden streets to the android sitting in his passenger seat, who made a point to stare outside through the window in an attempt to avoid the conversation.

Connor stared pointedly out of the window, watching the streetlights as they passed by. Since deviating, he had discovered a fascination with the weather in its infinite forms. He had grown to enjoy the sounds of the rain against the metal of the car's roof.

He had also been trying to make it obvious to his elder that he wanted no part of this conversation.

Hank, as usual, persisted.

"...just think you'd enjoy life a little more, that's all. You've got a lot more free time since Cyber-Hell doesn't control you, and - Connor, are you even listening to me?"

He didn't respond. Hank saw the LED in Connor's temple pulsing a golden hue. He was listening, alright - just ignoring him.

"Connor," Hank said in a light-hearted tone, a smile playing about his aged face. "Look at me."

Connor sighed heavily, turning his head to face the lieutenant. "What?"

Hank laughed in spite of himself. "I don't see what the problem is! Why don't you want to talk about this?"

Connor turned away from the lieutenant's smirk, facing the front windshield. "Because I simply don't see the point in a relationship, Lieutenant. Androids were not made to feel affection."

Hank laughed. "You're a deviant now. You can do whatever the hell you want." He turned his eyes back to the road, still chuckling to himself. "I just think if you found yourself a nice girl, maybe you wouldn't be so…"

Hank waved a hand in the air, as if grasping for a word he couldn't quite reach.

"Wouldn't be so _what_ , Lieutenant?" Connor asked in annoyance.

"Uptight."

The android slouched in his seat, rolling his eyes. Hank found himself amused at this display of irritation. _God, he's just like a damn teenager._ He smirked again, turning to face his passenger.

"C'mon, Con, it's been a year since you deviated. You're human now - or, at least, as human as you can be. Why won't you even -" Hank stopped suddenly, feigning a dawning realization.

Connor glanced at him. "What, Hank?"

Hank smiled. "You're scared."

Connor opened his mouth to protest. "What exactly am I scared of, Lieutenant?"

"Women."

Connor pulled his gaze away from Hank's, looking outside once more. Even in the darkness, Hank could still see the android's face flush a faint blue tint.

"Ha, I knew it!" He laughed loudly as he turned into the driveway of his home on Michigan street. He turned off the ignition as he looked at his partner. "The famous deviant hunter is afraid of women!"

Connor unfastened the seat belt and opened the door of the old car in an attempt to escape the direction of the conversation. Hank followed suit, still laughing as he locked his car.

"That doesn't make any sense, Hank. I fail to see your reasoning." Connor claimed as he regained his composure, though he still avoided the stare from his friend's tired blue eyes. He looked to the front door of Hank's home and stopped suddenly.

Hank was oblivious to Connor's sudden stop. He was still shaking with laughter as he approached his partner.

"You're afraid of women because you don't understand them, Con, ha!" He smiled as he shook his head. "An android who's afraid of women. I'll be damned!"

"Lieutenant," Connor said in a cautious tone, never tearing his eyes away from the front door to Hank's house.

"Maybe you've got a commitment problem, huh? Is that it?"

" _Lieutenant_." Connor turned to face the older man, his tone filled with warning. Hank looked up, his smile fading as he saw the concerned look in Connor's eyes.

"Did you leave the door open when we left this morning?"

Hank turned his head. The door to his home was open by a few inches, the wood around the lock splintered and torn.

Hank put a hand to his belt, drawing his gun. He looked to Connor, who had done the same. Hank nodded silently as he pulled out his radio.

Connor turned to the door, raising his gun as he approached it. He put a hand to the door and gave it a push. The door creaked open on its rusted hinges.

Connor pointed his weapon into the darkness. Though his eyes were specifically designed to adapt to whatever the situation required, the darkness of Hank's home was nearly impenetrable. He saw movement down the corridor, coming swiftly toward them. A patch of moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the white and brown fur of the figure. Connor sighed a bit of relief.

"Sumo," he whispered to the St. Bernard, who was approaching him quickly. He stooped to the animal's eye level as a whine escaped the throat of the dog. Sumo didn't appear to be injured in any way, and happily walked out of the door to where Hank was standing.

Connor rose from his position on the ground, raising his gun once more. A clatter broke the silence of the home, stemming from the direction of the kitchen. Connor took another cautious step toward the back of the house.

Hank was attempting to corral Sumo into the yard when he heard what sounded like an old generator powering up. He looked up in the direction of Connor, who looked toward the direction of the noise as well. Cautiously, Hank approached the door and, feeling along the wall for the switch, turned the lights on.

Just as the room was illuminated in light, a figure in a black jacket sprinted from the back of the house in the direction of the android. Before Connor could respond, the man retrieved what looked like an asp out of his jacket pocket. The end of the device struck Connor in the center of his chest, just over his Thirium pump.

Electricity sparked from the device as it came in contact with the android. A strangled gasp escaped from Connor as he spasmed. He dropped to the ground with a resounding _thud_ and lay still.

Hank aimed his weapon at the suspect and fired. The suspect's head snapped backward, and a spray of blue blood escaped from the wound in the center of his forehead. He fell to the ground next to Connor. The device fell from the hand of the dead android.

 _A fucking cattle prod_.

"Connor!" Hank hurried to where Connor lay on his side. Hank placed a hand on Connor's shoulder, shaking him gently. When he didn't respond, Hank rolled Connor onto his back.

His arm fell limp to the ground at his side, revealing the charred and blackened mark in the center of his torso. His head lolled to the side, his eyes open and unseeing. His LED was a deathly grey in color.

"No, no no no, you aren't doing this to me! I don't fucking think so!" Hank took Connor by his shoulders and shook him. There was no response.

Hank stared at Connor's blank face for a moment, the reality sinking in. "Connor! You answer me, damn it!"

No response.

Hank sat still for a moment, rendered entirely speechless. _No, not again, please…_

A thought occurred to him suddenly. Hank stood from where he was knelt on the ground and hurried to the kitchen. He opened the first drawer on his left when he entered the room and retrieved a small, black object from the bottom of the drawer.

 _This better fucking work_ , Hank thought to himself as he powered on the taser.

Running back to where Connor lay, he steeled himself for what he was about to do. Raising the taser over Connor's chest, he looked into Connor's unseeing eyes.

"Sorry, pal."

He brought his hand down, the taser connecting with Connor's chest just over the charring. His body jerked, and his LED flashed a brilliant red. Connor gasped, his eyes flying open as he sat up abruptly.

Hank could have fallen over with relief; instead, he put a hand on his partner's back as Connor attempted to catch his breath. When his LED cycled to a golden hue, Connor looked up at Hank. His soft brown eyes were wide with confusion.

"What happened?" he asked. Hank nodded to the body of the other android on the ground.

"Asshole zapped you, that's what happened. Stopped your pump completely. I had to tase you to get it goin' again." Hank sat down heavily, eyeing his partner warily. "You okay?"

Connor looked down at the charred mark on his artificial skin, grimacing at the smell of burnt plastic. "I am functioning at optimal capacity, and I detect no lasting damage." He paused and met the tired eyes of his best friend with his own. "Thank you."

Hank sighed, nodding. "Sure thing, kid."

After radioing to the precinct about what had happened, Captain Fowler came to the house to pick up the body and gather a statement from both detectives. Fowler grimaced at Connor's charred skin.

"You boys take the weekend, I don't want to see either of you until Monday," Fowler said gruffly, returning to his vehicle and pulling out of the driveway.

Hank stared at the Thirium stain on his carpet, but didn't bother to clean it. It would evaporate eventually, leaving nothing behind.

The lieutenant rubbed a hand over his face and groaned.

"I need a drink."

Connor smirked in spite of himself, grabbing the keys from where they had fallen to the ground.

"I couldn't agree more, Lieutenant."


	2. Chapter 2: Happy Hour

Chapter Two: Happy Hour

Jimmy's Bar was as busy as one would expect on a Saturday night. The booths along the walls were filled with men and women in various stages of inebriation. There were, however, no other androids in the establishment. Despite the fact that android segregation laws had been lifted last year, androids still tended to avoid human bars due to the overwhelming amount of hatred that people still felt for them.

Connor, however, paid no mind to this fact. The occasional drunk would stumble by and take a swing at him, mumbling something about "fuckin' androids never learn." These individuals were easily taken care of - they were often too intoxicated to reciprocate Connor's reflexes. He'd accepted the fact that androids would never be seen as humans - and, given the shocking lack of decency in humans, he was okay with that.

Hank suddenly clapped a heavy hand on Connor's shoulder. He pulled back to face the android toward him, then looked at him seriously.

 _Oh boy,_ Connor thought.

"Now, Connor," Hank started. "Tonight is not just for me to get drunk off my ass. No, tonight's gonna be a learning experience for both of us."

He laughed when Connor furrowed his brow.

"I fail to grasp your meaning, Lieutenant," Connor said, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, Connor, tonight is going to be the night we finally find out how human you really are." Smiling, Hank turned Connor to face the counter and gestured towards an individual who stood behind there.

The stools along the counter had emptied significantly since their arrival, allowing plenty of room for Connor to see what the lieutenant had been pointing to.

There were two individuals standing behind the counter. The first was an older man, who Connor scanned over.

 _Ben Walker. Born 1986. Occupation: Cashier. History: Aggravated Assault, Traffic Violations._

Connor followed Hank's arm, looking to the second individual.

Though she was facing away from him at the moment, Connor could tell she looked young, early twenties at the oldest. Her hair was tousled and tied up with a black bandana, cropped close to her neck in what Connor believed was commonly referred to as a _pixie_. The short nature of her hair drew attention to her long, slender neck and narrow shoulders. She was tall, almost as tall as Connor, and had long, slender arms. She curved inward at the waist, giving her gentle curves in what Hank would have referred to as _all the right places_. She wore dark jeans that emphasized the length of her legs and a red flannel that was rolled up to her elbows beneath the black apron that employees were required to wear.

She turned to hand a glass to the man smiling at her from across the counter, and Connor found himself taken aback.

Her face was round, but had an accentuated bone structure that emphasized the height of her cheekbones and the strength of her jawline. Her lips looked soft as she smiled with a smile so genuine, it almost brought a smile to Connor. Her eyes were the color of the sky in the summertime, surrounded by long, thick lashes and framed by black glasses. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.

Connor could have scanned her to find out her name…

But he didn't.

He wanted to learn her name without having to scan her.

Realizing that Hank was smirking at him, Connor reluctantly tore his eyes away from the bartender to face him.

Some trace of what he was thinking must have still shown on his face. Hank chuckled and shook his head.

"See? I told ya."

Connor feigned a look of confusion. "I'm not sure what you're referring to, Hank."

"Ha! Bullshit!" Hank laughed. "You couldn't be more obvious!"

Connor turned away from the lieutenant, feeling his face flush a faint blue for the second time that evening. "Who is she, Lieutenant?"

Hank smirked, then nodded in the direction of the bartender. "Come on, Con, I'll introduce you."

Before Connor could pull him back, Hank had strode forward and spread out his arms.

"Who'd a thought they'd ever let a Rivers work in here?" He called from the end of the counter.

The girl turned to face the booming voice, and Connor saw a flash of recognition pass through her eyes, followed by a lopsided smirk of her own.

"They had to lower the bar once they let an Anderson in!" She called back, pulling on the ties in the back of her apron to take it off. Beneath the apron and the flannel, Connor was surprised to see a Guns 'n' Roses shirt.

Hank smiled and lowered his arms, walking toward the end of the counter as the girl walked over to meet him, exiting through a set of swinging doors. Connor noticed that she was wearing a pair of worn, beaten Converse, despite the fact that they hadn't been in production in years.

The girl crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, grinning. "I thought you'd run away, Hank. Haven't seen you in a while!"

Hank walked toward her and met her in a warm hug, like he'd known her for years. She returned the gesture, all but disappearing in the arms of the lieutenant.

Breaking the hug but keeping one arm wrapped around her shoulders, Hank turned to face Connor. "Get your ass over here, son; there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Connor stepped forward, looking back and forth between Hank and the younger girl, taking note of when her eyes flickered to the yellow pulsing of his LED. He was worried the warm expression on her face would melt away at the sight of it, but was glad to find that she continued to smile.

 _Why would I be glad?_

The girl looked him up and down a few times, her eyes flicking across his face and smiling.

Hank looked between the two of them and rolled his eyes as they stared at each other. After about a minute of silence between the two of them, he cleared his throat.

"You gonna say something? Or just make eyes at each other all night?"

The girl laughed. It was a clear, genuine sound that reminded Connor of sunshine. He wasn't sure what that meant, but it was the only thing he could compare it to.

She stepped forward out of Hank's arm, holding out one of her hands. When Connor reached out to take it in his own, she clasped her other hand around it. Her hands were smaller than Connor's, but they were warm.

"You must be Connor," she said, smiling up at him. "Hank's told me a lot about you."

Connor looked at Hank for a moment, who was smirking at him, then returned his gaze to the girl in front of him.

"All good things, I hope?" he returned with a lopsided smile of his own.

The girl laughed again, shaking her head. "Of course!" She paused for a moment. "I'm Natalie."

 _Natalie_ , Connor found himself repeating in his mind. It fit her. He liked the sound of it.

"It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Natalie." He nodded slightly toward her, earning a soft giggle.

"Hank," she chided. "You didn't mention how polite he was!"

Hank huffed and rolled his eyes. "Ah, jeez, Nat, you gotta make it weird."

She smiled, then shook herself out of her reverie. "Come on, let me get you boys some drinks."

She stepped behind the counter again, walking toward the center of the counter. The bar had mostly emptied out since the encounter began, with only a few of the stools still full and only a table or two that had occupants. She gestured for them to sit down, reaching beneath the counter.

"For Hank," she started, pulling bottles out from underneath the counter. She poured shots into a larger glass over ice with expert precision, finishing it off with a slice of lemon that she twisted in her hands before adding it to the drink. "Whiskey on the rocks with a twist."  
Hank smiled. "You remembered. I'm touched," he said before nodding. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Natalie smiled back at him, then turned to face Connor. "And now, for you."

Connor shook his head. "Androids cannot -"

She held up a hand, effectively cutting him off. "You've just never seen an android drink, my friend." She smirked, then reached beneath the counter again.

She pulled out a bag of Thirium and sliced it open near the top using a knife. She poured this into a cocktail shaker, followed by two shots from a small bottle filled with a clear liquid and one shot from a slightly bigger bottle filled with a brown-tinted substance. She closed the shaker, shaking it vigorously in her hands before opening it again. She filled another glass with ice, then poured the solution over the ice. She held out the vibrant blue beverage to Connor.

He looked at it with confusion, then back at her.

She smiled. "Trust me, Connor. Try it."

Connor looked at Hank, who just shrugged. Warily, he took the glass between his fingers and slowly raised it to his lips.

He was shocked at the taste. The central taste of Thirium was still present, though it was mixed with slightly different flavors. There was something he couldn't quite identify. Was it...fruity?

Whatever it was, he liked it.

He scanned the substance, and was surprised that the analysis came back saying that the Thirium was compatible with his system.

He set the glass down and looked at Natalie with surprise.

"Well?" Hank said. "You gonna say something?"

"It's… I like it," Connor said with surprise.

It was rare for him to find something that he actually liked. He liked Sumo. He liked Hank. He liked working for the DPD. And now, he liked this.

He liked her.

She smiled at him. "I'm glad you like it!"

"What is this? If I may ask," Connor gestured to the glass in front of him.

She looked shocked, and placed her hands on her hips. "Connor, don't you know? A bartender never reveals her secrets," she chided with a wink.

He liked that too.

"I can't tell you what I put in it, of course; only that I filtered it to take the harmful properties out so androids could enjoy it. Once the laws were lifted, I figured it would only be fair that they get to enjoy a drink too," she smiled, leaning toward him from across the counter. "The only things left are the taste and the effects. You, my friend, can officially get drunk now."

Hank laughed out loud, clapping his hand on Connor's back. "Now you can finally be my real drinking buddy!" He raised his own glass in the air. "Cheers, pal."

Connor looked at the glass for a moment, then mirrored the motion with his own. The glasses came together with a sharp _clink_.

A warning flashed in front of Connor's vision.

 _WARNING: Intoxication at 4.72%. Avoid further consumption. Inebriation at risk_.

 _What an odd warning,_ Connor thought to himself. It was one he never thought he'd see.

He dismissed it without a second thought.

After finishing the drink, he looked to her. "Could I trouble you for another…? What do you call these?"

She smiled, already mixing another one. "That, Connor, is what I like to call a 'Short Circuit'."

He laughed. He never laughed.

The night passed on in a similar fashion, with Natalie mixing drinks for the two officers in front of her. They told her stories of wild pursuits and run-ins with red ice rings, and she retaliated with stories of customers who bit off far more than they could chew.

When it reached 2:00 in the morning, Natalie closed the bottles and put them back under the counter. Everyone else had already stumbled out for the evening, leaving behind only the young bartender and two _highly_ intoxicated officers of the law.

"Closing time, boys," she said, to which Hank groaned.

"Ahhh c'mon, Natttt, jus' one more?" he slurred, giving her what she could only guess was his inebriated attempt at being charming.

It didn't work. She smiled nonetheless.

Even Connor had a relaxed smile spread across his face as he attempted to run another diagnostic.

 _W RN1NG: InttoxXXic $%^ at 4$$ 2%. InneEEE$## riSk._

He couldn't be bothered to care.

He couldn't be bothered at all.

Natalie shook her head, pulling out her cell phone to call a cab for the two as Hank tossed a few wadded up bills on the counter. There was no way either of them were driving home tonight.

When they finally reached the Anderson residence, the two leaned against one another for mutual support as they stumbled their way up the sidewalk. After several futile attempts, Hank finally managed to get the door unlocked. He tossed the keys in the vague direction of the table by the door - missing it entirely - and he and Connor both sat heavily on the couch.

Connor turned to face Hank, trying to get his optical units to focus but to no avail.

"Hhhank?" he started. Hank turned to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sshheee was really nicccce," he slurred as his processors began shutting down for the night.

"Ssee? I told you you'd like hhher," Hank grinned.

"Yyou were right, Lliutennt," Connor said as he leaned back and began to shut down for the night. "I ddooo."

Both were asleep - or, in Connor's case, in stasis - within minutes.

Turns out it was a good thing they had the day off the next day.


	3. Chapter 3: More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter Three: More Than Meets the Eye

Connor instantly regretted waking up the very second he opened his eyes. Insurmountable pain stabbed from his optical units into his processor. He squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to relieve the white-hot agony that pierced his head, but to no avail. He pressed his hands against his face as pressure began to mount just behind his optical units. His auditory processors worked in hyperdrive, heightening every sound to an alarmingly loud volume.

For a moment, Connor couldn't tell where he was or how he had gotten there. Shrouded in the blackness of his vision and the overwhelming input from his auditory units, he simply lay there, overcome with the incredible amount of pain in his head.

After a few minutes of agony, the pain began to lessen ever so slightly. Connor became aware of the fact that he was lying on something, and that he was very warm. Reaching his hands out, he felt the sheets and the blanket of the bed he had come to occupy in Hank's home.

He didn't remember ever going to bed.

He didn't remember ever leaving the bar.

Oh.

Vague, clouded memories of hearty laughs, blue beverages, and a girl with worn-out sneakers. He and Hank laughing until they were in tears.

As Connor sorted through clouded memories, he heard a soft knock at the door, which was followed by the sound of scratching paws and a sudden weight on his chest.

A cold, wet nose searched Connor's face, and a hot tongue caused him to grimace.

"Hey, Sumo," he said. His voice came out as a croak, though Connor had detected no irregularities with his vocal unit.

A gruff but sincere voice pierced the otherwise silent air. "Mornin', Connor. You look like shit."

Connor opened his eyes, and turning his head, he was met with a disheveled-looking Lieutenant Anderson. He was wearing the same clothes they had gone to the bar in, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Other than that, he looked surprisingly better than he usually did after a night of drinking.

"The same could be said for you, Lieutenant," Connor retorted, pushing the heavy St. Bernard off of him with little difficulty. Sumo was content to lay his head down beside Connor's, looking at him with big, loving eyes.

Connor placed his hands on the bed beside him and sat up.

"I wouldn't do that -" Hank started, but Connor had already stood up.

A sudden wave of dizziness passed over Connor, his vision suddenly swimming with dark spots. He closed his eyes, hoping the dizziness would subside, but was made aware of another sensation.

An odd pressure began building in Connor's stomach as the dizziness only got worse. Before Connor could question what was happening, a warning flashed in his vision.

 _WARNING: Unequal distribution of Thirium detected. Thirium purge commencing in 00:00:09.23._

 _Oh, shit,_ Connor thought as he raced past Hank and out of the room. The dizziness only increased tenfold at his sudden movement, but he knew what was about to happen - and knew that Hank sure as hell wouldn't want it on his floor.

Pushing open the door to the bathroom down the hall, Connor hardly had time to think before a torrent of Thirium poured from his lips. Bending over the toilet, Connor could only close his eyes and wait for the retching to stop.

After what seemed like an eternity, Connor rested his head against the crook of his arm as the nausea - or at least, the android version of such an experience - finally, mercifully, subsided.

After flushing the ungodly amount of Thirium down the drain, Connor sat back with his head in his hands.

 _Thirium volume at 86.9%._

He ignored the warning as he still felt as if the waves of dizziness were only increasing.

A hand was on his shoulder, and Connor opened his eyes slightly to see Hank staring down at him with a small smirk.

"What's wrong with me, Lieutenant?" Connor asked, his voice sounding far more hoarse than before.

The smirk increased to a full grin as Hank began to chuckle.

"You, my friend, are hungover."

Connor squeezed his eyes shut again, the memories of Hank's hangovers flooding his mind.

 _No wonder he's an ass when he's hungover,_ he thought to himself.

 _This is awful._

Peering up at the Lieutenant, Connor asked, "How much did I have to drink last night?"

"Way too much for a first-time, pal. Way too much," Hank laughed, helping Connor to his feet.

The pain in Connor's head had finally subsided to a dull ache between his eyes as he sat with Hank at the kitchen table. He had replenished some of the Thirium he had lost, which allowed his healing program to begin its work.

He found himself disliking the fact that he couldn't remember anything after a certain point last night. As a superior model type, his processors should have been able to store away vital pieces of information without regard to his state of inebriation.

 _Never thought I'd have to say that,_ Connor thought.

He turned to face the Lieutenant.

"I don't think I like being drunk, Hank."

Hank laughed as he set down his mug of coffee. "Oh yeah? Bet you won't do that again, huh?"

Connor didn't appreciate his chiding tone, but looked down to the table in defeat.

"At least not to that extreme."

Hank looked at the young android seated next to him, and smiled in spite of himself.

Connor, who was always so well-put together, looked like genuine shit. The usual neatness of his appearance was gone, replaced with a rumpled uniform and unkempt hair. Hank found himself surprised that the android's hair was actually vaguely curly. It was odd to see so human a quality in someone who always looked the part of a machine.

Dark circles surrounded his brown eyes, and their usual sharpness was reduced to a vague, dull impression of the previous night. The LED in his temple hadn't stopped cycling in a golden hue since the events of the morning had transpired.

Hank was always surprised with just how human Connor could really be.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts when he realized that Connor was looking at him questioningly.

"What are you looking at, Lieutenant?"

Hank smirked again, pulling his eyes away from Connor to look into the depths of his coffee mug.

"What did you think of Natalie?" He asked, changing the subject.

Memories of blue eyes and a sunshine laugh filled Connor's mind, and he smiled softly.

"I think I'd like to get to know her a little better. She seems nice." He paused.

"She's very pretty."

Hank laughed. "I knew you'd like her. You two have a lot in common, come to think of it."

Connor looked up to face Hank. "How do you know her so well?"

Hank's smile fell a little, and he looked back to the surface of the table. He seemed to be staring intently at something that sat right in front of him, though nothing was there. He sighed, leaning forward to set his arms on the table, and looked at Connor. His tone was serious.

"That's a long story, Connor. A very, very long story."

Connor waited patiently for him to continue. After a few minutes, Hank sighed.

"Look, she had a shitty childhood. Her dad got mixed up in some bad stuff, so she kind of grew up without any parental figure to look up to. I helped her out for a while." He paused, and looked at Connor. "There's a lot to her story. A lot more than either one of us would expect. It isn't my place to tell - not yet, anyways."

Realizing the conversation was over, Connor leaned back into his seat, somewhat disappointed. He had wanted to know more about the mysterious girl at the bar.

He supposed the time would come eventually.


	4. Chapter 4: A Bad Feeling

Chapter Four: A Bad Feeling

Crisp air blew through the doors of the DPD as Connor and Hank entered the facility, stirring loose papers at the edge of the reception desk. The morning was chilly, as most Detroit autumn mornings were, but the skies were clear. Connor was relieved when he awoke to find that the pain of the previous day had subsided entirely, leaving him back at full operational capacity.

He sat at the neat desk he had claimed as his own. Though most of the desks in the DPD were filled with items that personalized each to their owner, Connor's had only a few identifying markers.

The gold name plate that sat at the side of his desk read _Det. Connor._ The plate seemed odd in comparison to the rest of the plates; given the fact that androids were not given last names, however, it was only fitting.

Near the terminal of his desk sat a small framed photograph. Though Connor had no need for material reminders of his life, he found that he liked having a small part of his life available to him without him having to scan his memory banks.

The photograph had been taken at Christmas last year. Markus had insisted that he and Hank attend a small gathering at the Manfred residence, since the two were key in the revolution. In the photo, the small group of people were arranged in an awkward gathering. Simon and Josh were seated in the front with awkward but genuine smiles plastered on their faces. Standing just behind them were North and Markus, who each had an arm slung around the other and appeared to be mid-laugh. Markus' other arm was wrapped around Connor's shoulders. He had managed a smile, even though it felt wildly unnatural. Hank was kneeling next to Connor, his face filled with annoyance as he glanced upward at the Santa hat he had been forced to wear by North. Sumo sat just in front of him, grinning in a way only a St. Bernard could manage.

The photo seemed out of place amidst the pristine condition of the rest of his desk, but Connor didn't mind.

Hank had sat in the chair across from him after getting a cup of coffee from the break room. No sooner than he had sat down and was about to take a drink when a booming voice sounded over the bustle of the room.

"Anderson! Connor! My office!"

Hank grimaced and looked at Connor. "Every fucking time I sit down, Fowler's gotta shove a stick up my ass."

Sighing, Hank relinquished his cup of coffee to the surface of his desk and rose out of his chair. He headed towards Fowler's office with Connor close behind.

Seated in Fowler's office, the police captain looked back and forth between the two of them. He settled his gaze on Connor. "How're you doing, Connor? After Saturday?"

Connor met his gaze with calm, brown eyes. "My systems are functioning optimally, and I detect no lasting damage."

Fowler looked to Hank, who shrugged. Nodding, Fowler sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap.

"I thought you two might like to know that the attack on Connor wasn't an isolated incident. We've had three other reports of individuals - both humans and androids - who have broken into homes only to attack an android with a cattle prod. The other three androids didn't survive. Quite frankly, it's a miracle you did."

Connor winced slightly, remembering the effects of the brutal instrument. The pain surrounding the area had vanished, but the charring was still visible. The artificial skin had been severely damaged in the process, and was thus taking a little longer to heal than it normally would have.

"The question is, why are they targeting androids? And why are humans and androids doing it together? We've had android attacks on other androids, as well as the obvious human attacks on androids, but we've never seen a hate crime organization comprised of humans and androids alike."

Hank coughed once, then groaned as he shifted in his seat. "Any idea who's behind the attacks?"

"No one's claimed responsibility yet, but with crimes as bold as this, it's only a matter of time before someone does."

Fowler explained details of the deaths of the other androids, but Connor found himself staring off into space. Androids being targeted by humans or other androids was not an uncommon thing. Androids being targeted by humans AND androids, however, was an entirely different matter.

He snapped out of his reverie when the door to Fowler's office was thrown open. Officer Chris Miller stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a grim expression on his face.

"What is it, Miller?" Fowler asked as he stood from behind his desk. The two officers sitting in front of the desk followed suit.

"There's been another attack, sir. The cattle prod guys. Down at a warehouse by the piers."

Fowler sighed, his head lowering for a moment. Connor turned to face Miller.

"Did the android survive?"

Miller looked grim.

"That's just the thing. It was a human."

The other three occupants of the room stood in stunned silence until Chris broke it.

"And they left a note this time."


	5. Chapter 5: Digging Deep

Chapter Five: Digging Deep

*Warning: Contains Graphic Content*

The sheer presence of first responders already at the crime scene was overwhelming. The perimeter of the entire crime scene seemed to be lined with emergency vehicles, their flashing lights dousing the surrounding buildings in an eerie, flashing red glow. Sirens drowned out all other noise, making it almost impossible to hear one another. Passersby flooded to the edges of the scene, pushing and pulling at each other and the officers nearby in an attempt to gain some grasp on what was happening.

To say that the scene was pure chaos would have been a tremendous understatement.

Hank pulled his car behind one of the many squad cars surrounding the scene, his mouth slightly agape.

"Holy shit," was all he could muster.

Stepping out of the vehicle and crossing beneath the luminescent yellow caution tape, Connor surveyed his surroundings with caution. The crime scene was located in a notoriously dangerous part of the neighborhood - which would explain the overwhelming presence of first responders.

The dilapidated warehouse on the corner of the block was constructed with wood that had rotted to the foundation years ago. Chipped, mottled boards supported what was left of the building's structure, the metal roof only partially supported above the cement foundation. Where two windows on the second floor had once been was only a vague remnant of their shapes, long since covered by wooden planks and various signs of foreclosure.

The front door to the warehouse had been ripped off of its hinges, leaving splinters and metal shavings strewn upon the front steps and in the entryway.

Connor didn't even have to set foot inside the warehouse in order to see the victim. Looking upward, he heard Hank curse softly.

Two chains were strung from where the two windows of the second floor had been, having been forced through the wood planks with considerable force. Between these chains was strung the corpse of a young man.

What was left of it, anyways.

The skin of the man's wrists was ripped, bloody, and raw surrounding the chains. His head lolled forward against his chest, obscuring his face from anyone not directly beneath him. The young man was shirtless, and in the center of his chest was a terrible, mottled wound. Though the wound itself was very slight in diameter, the surrounding area hadn't escaped unscathed. The center of the wound was a blackened, nearly perfect circle. The skin surrounding the wound was mottled, almost shredded, and tinged with white. As the radius spread out from the wound, the skin gradually became less of a deathly color and more of a deep, bloodied scarlet. Blood glistened on the surface of his torso, still very obviously fresh. The young man's feet were also coated with blood and looked to have been beaten to the point where they had been shattered.

Neither Hank nor Connor took notice of Gavin Reed approaching them from the crime scene until he was directly in front of them. As he neared them, his usual smirk was entirely absent from his face. He didn't even have a snide comment for Connor.

Turning to look back at the victim, Gavin shook his head in bewilderment.

"Sick fucks…"

Hank tore his eyes away from the body to look at Reed. "You got something, Reed?"

Reed continued to stare at the corpse for a moment or two, then turned to face Hank and nodded. He held out his hand to give Hank an evidence bag. Inside this bag was a single sheet of paper that was tinged with blood around the edge on one edge. Hank turned the bag toward the lights to read what was hastily scrawled upon the page, which he read aloud.

"'Maybe it isn't blue, but blood is blood. Come and get us.' What the fuck…" Hank looked back to Reed. "How do we know it's the same guys?"

"We found this on the ground below the body," Reed said, holding up another evidence bag for the two officers to see. The object in this bag was long, black, and cylindrical, with a small handle on one end and two bloodied, metallic prongs on the other.

"You've gotta be shittin' me. What is it with these guys and their fuckin' cattle prods?"

Connor's hand hovered above the center of his torso, grimacing as he remembered the pain of the attack only a few days before. His LED flashed red briefly before returning to cycle in yellow. He dropped his hand, turning to Reed.

"Has anyone been inside yet?"

Reed shook his head. "The building's unstable as hell, and Fowler called ahead to let us know you two were coming." He shrugged. "It's kind of your thing."

Hank scoffed, shaking his head. He turned to Connor, who simply nodded and stepped toward the warehouse.

The two officers navigated through the matrix of officers and first responder vehicles on the scene. When they crossed the threshold of the door, neither of them found the courage to look up into the wide, unseeing eyes of the man above the door.

The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside. The holes in the walls allowed red light to pass in from outside, illuminating the interior with a crimson glow. The entryway led into a hallway of sorts, with one of the walls entirely absent to provide access to the rest of the warehouse. This hallway extended along the length of the building, lined with doors all along the left side. There were six doors in total on this wall, with a seventh at the opposite end of the hallway.

Hank drew his gun from its holster on his hip, aiming into the emptiness of the warehouse. "I'm gonna check the rest of the warehouse, you got these doors?"

Connor turned his head to face Hank. "I think I can handle a few doors, Lieutenant."

"Oh, fuck off." Hank turned his back to Connor and walked into the darkness. Turning away, Connor allowed a brief smirk to pass over his lips as he drew his gun.

The first door yielded no resistance when he tried the handle. Sweeping his flashlight over the small room, Connor found that the room was entirely empty save for a long-abandoned beer can.

The next few doors opened with varying degrees of stiffness, but yielded similar results.

Stepping out of the fourth room and closing the door behind him, Connor turned just as the loud slamming of a door next to him pierced the sound of sirens.

 _BANG_.

A white flash momentarily blinded Connor, which was immediately followed by white-hot agony in his abdomen. The pain caused Connor to drop to one knee in surprise, allowing the other individual to strike him across the face with the butt of his gun. He fell to the floor as he wrapped an arm around himself, feeling blood on both his hands and his face.

Three more gunshots split the air, followed by a loud thud. Raising his head, he saw Hank lowering his weapon to the body of the suspect on the ground as he kicked the gun away from his hand. Officers swarmed the entrance at the sound of gunfire as Hank hurried over to where Connor lay.

"Connor! Connor, talk to me!"

Connor struggled to sit upright, but felt Hank's hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Connor pressed his hands over a spot just above his left hip, and Hank could see Thirium leaking between his fingers.

"I'll be alright, Hank, j-just help me stop the bleeding," Connor said through gritted teeth. Hank used his other hand to press down over Connor's hands in an attempt to stop the bleeding. When it didn't work, he eyed the body of the dead man on the ground.

"Don't you fuckin' move," Hank called as he hurried over to the man on the ground.

"Not planning on it," Connor responded in annoyance.

Kneeling next to Connor again, Hank used the shirt sleeves of the man on the ground to tie as a bandage around Connor's torso. When he was satisfied that the bleeding had stemmed sufficiently, he helped Connor sit upright. "You alright?"

"I am in no danger of shutting down, and none of my biocomponents were damaged. My healing program should take care of the damage in the next few hours. If he were attempting to kill me, he certainly did - as you would say - a piss poor job."

Hank laughed, helping his partner to his feet. Connor used one of his jacket sleeves to wipe away at the blood from the laceration above his eye from the butt of the suspect's gun.

It was only then that he noticed that other officers had taken the time to sweep the rest of the rooms. Hank muttered beneath his breath.

"They couldn't even fuckin' clear the place."

"Lieutenant!" A voice called from one of the farther rooms. The head of a young officer poked out from the sixth door on the left side. "There's something in here."

Hank stepped toward the room with Connor close behind him. The room in question was filled with boxes of varying sizes, along with a wide variety of what Connor analyzed and found to be cattle prods. Some of the boxes were simple, cardboard boxes with various words scrawled on them. Others were storage crates, sealed with industrial tape and covered in markings. Every box, however, bore the same symbol. The symbol was simple - merely a black circle through which was painted a diagonal red stripe. In the center of this stripe were printed two 'R's, which were painted one above the other.

Hank saw this symbol as well, and his jaw dropped slightly. He tightened his hands into fists.

"No fucking way. Absolutely no fucking way! We locked up that son of a bitch years ago!" Hank said in a low, dangerous voice.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Connor asked softly, cocking his head to the side curiously. His LED cycled in an amber hue.

Hank turned to face Connor, the fire in his eyes dying down a bit when he met Connor's eyes with his own. He sighed, leaning heavily against the nearest crate.

"The Red River Cartel. Red Ice ring from almost a decade ago. Downright shitty group of people - murderous savages, every one of them. All of them just killing as the price they paid to get their next fix. We locked up their leader years ago. They're the ones behind this. Now it makes sense why they were in our house." He paused.

"I was the one who arrested their leader."


	6. Chapter 6: Family Ties

Chapter Six: Family Ties

The evening had progressively grown more dreary as time dragged on. The city of Detroit was experiencing one of its many periods of continual downpour, and the rain came down in sheets that instantly drenched anything in its path. Despite the technical advances of the city, the lights lining both sides of the streets did very little to pierce through the darkness of the night. The part of the city surrounding the crime scene was almost entirely comprised of abandoned, decrepit buildings, which merely cast a forsaken atmosphere upon the already saddened streets.

Hank was lost in his own thoughts throughout the entire drive home. Connor found himself continually glancing between the rain-soaked streets of Detroit and the face of his partner. Upon hearing the name of the cartel behind the attacks, as well as Hank's outburst, he had immediately pulled the files regarding the case from the DPD. Very little information was available, though Connor was able to gather the names of the individuals who were arrested by Hank. The first was a young man by the name of Charles Thein, who was one of the low-level runners for the cartel - mostly in charge of deliveries, collecting debts and whatnot. There were two others - James Guy and Keith Summers - who held similar positions in the rankings of the cartel. The last was the leader of the cartel himself - Collin Rivers.

As he scanned through the information, Connor hardly noticed when Hank passed the driveway to his home and kept driving. A few moments later, Hank turned into the parking lot of Jimmy's Bar.

Connor looked at him in surprise, and felt a feeling of dread creep into his processors as he glanced down at his Thirium-soaked shirt.

 _Is Natalie working? What would she think? She'd probably think we were reckless again -_ Connor stopped the thoughts from progressing, finding himself shocked by these thoughts. He barely knew her, he should have very little regard for what she thinks in regards to his appearance.

Nonetheless, Connor felt increasingly nervous as he approached the door with Hank. _Why would I be nervous? I barely know this girl._

Entering the bar, Connor saw Natalie standing behind the counter as she had been the first night. Though he was still nervous, he couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of her.

Tonight, her black bandana was replaced with a red one, and the flannel she wore the other night was absent, replaced by a long-sleeved off-the-shoulder black shirt. The open neck of the shirt revealed her sharp collarbones, and Connor found himself slightly surprised to see the edges of a tattoo peeking from behind the material just below her left collarbone.

Her eyes shone with the same kind light that they had the first night, and her lips were adorned with lipstick that was the same color as her bandana. Her hands worked lightly with the drinks she served the men that lined the counter, grasping the bottles and cups with a delicate proficiency.

She turned to face the two of them when they walked in, and she smiled that wonderful smile as she waved them over. Turning back and calling to a man in the back of the bar, she finished the drinks and removed her apron. The men at the counter groaned audibly when she left.

Walking toward them, Connor observed the subtle sway of her hips and the confident way she held her head. Her jeans were distressed, allowing small sections of the pale skin of her slender legs to show. She was still wearing the same pair of distressed Converse.

"I wish you boys would have told be you were comin' - I might have looked a little nicer!" She laughed.

 _Is that possible?_ Connor thought to himself.

Hank, however, didn't respond to her jest - his face was grim, and he held his head slightly lower than he usually did. Natalie noticed this, glancing over to Connor for some indication of what had happened. Then she glanced down at his Thirium-stained shirt, and her eyes widened.

"What happened? Are you okay?" she asked, taking another step toward him. She raised her hand slightly, as if to touch him, but hesitated. She looked into his eyes, her eyes the color of summer skies filled with concern. He smiled slightly in spite of himself, and shook his head.

"Minor injury sustained in the field today, nothing of concern," he assured. Hank scoffed.

"The asshole shot you, Connor, you can't even say that?"

Natalie took a step backward. "A 'minor injury'?"

"My healing programs have already begun to heal the damage, Lieutenant. Thus, the damage is minor," he said to Hank, his tone filled with annoyance.

Hank gave him a glare that read "Don't try me, boy".

Natalie looked back to Hank's grim expression. "You two look like you could use a drink - or maybe several."

Hank shook his head slightly. "Not tonight, Nat. I'm afraid I've got some bad news."

Natalie's brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

Hank looked back at Connor, grimacing. He hadn't wanted Connor to find out like this, but it looked like there was no other choice.

"Is there anywhere a little more private we could talk?" He asked in a low voice. Natalie nodded, gesturing for the two men to follow her to one of the tables in the very back of the bar. Connor couldn't help but watch as she walked away. An old saying passed through his mind - _I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave_ \- and he shook his head, following her.

The booth was in the back corner of the bar, where very few people ever sat. Once they had sat down, Hank leaned his elbows on the surface of the table. Connor glanced between Hank and the girl sitting directly across from him, reading an expression of sadness and regret in the elder lieutenant's eyes.

"Natalie...we, um, we had another murder today. We've been having several attempted murders to androids over the last few weeks - hell, Connor barely escaped himself. Today, it was a human."

Natalie cocked her head slightly to the side, looking at Hank with an inquisitive expression. "Who was it?"

"Afraid I can't tell you that, Nat - you know, police business and all. Nobody you know, though. When we went inside, we found a room filled with a bunch of crates and cattle prods."

Natalie looked back at Connor, vividly remembering the charred center of his shirt the last time he had been there.

"The, uh, the crates…" Hank sighed. "They were from the Red River cartel."

Natalie's eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape. She looked down at the surface of the table, searching the various scratches and dents in the surface of the wood for something.

"How is that possible? He's in jail," she said quietly. Her voice was not filled with fear, or sadness, or anything really - just shock.

"One of the lower level members must have picked up the torch after we arrested Collin Rivers." Hank looked over at Connor, whose face was a mask of questions.

Natalie laughed in disbelief, shaking her head slightly. "Good ol' Dad, haunting me even from beyond the jail cell." She raised her eyes, looking first at Hank and then at Connor. Her eyes seemed to be brimming with something akin to anger, though it was mild. She smiled a crooked smile, and shrugged.

"I just thought you'd want to know, Nat. You remember what happened when I arrested him...I just want you to keep an eye out, make sure you're safe," Hank reached over the table, placing one of his weathered hands on top of her slender ones. She looked at him, nodding.

"I always am, Hank. Have been for the last twelve years."

Hank nodded, smiling slightly for the first time that evening. He drew his hand back across the table, stretching slightly and adding a yawn for effect.

"We oughta get out of here, Connor, and let her get back to work," Hank said as he slid out of the booth. Connor followed suit, albeit a bit awkwardly.

Natalie stood by the table, looking upward at the two officers in front of her. She crossed her arms across her chest, shifting all of her weight to one side as she smiled. "The next time you boys come in here, it'd better be strictly un-business-related!"

Hank laughed, promising her that it would be.

The ride back to Hank's place was silent, and Connor found himself glad when they reached the Anderson residence. Opening the door with his own key, Connor was immediately attacked by Sumo in all of his furry ferocity. He jumped up onto Connor, demanding his affection. Connor smiled slightly, burying his hands in Sumo's thick fur.

"You probably need to go outside, don't you?" He asked the large dog, who simply pushed his nose into Connor's leg as a response.

After letting Sumo back inside, Connor found Hank seated at the kitchen table. A mug of coffee sat in front of him, but Hank looked as if he had forgotten it was there. He stared off into the hallway, though Connor knew he wasn't looking at anything in particular. He sat down in the chair next to Hank, leaning his head to the side slightly.

"Is everything alright, Hank?" he asked in a gentle tone. Hank turned to face him, and Connor thought his eyes looked even more aged than they had before. Hank sighed, and suddenly his expression was serious.

"Connor, there's something you need to understand. We've dealt with bad, abusive parents before. Sometimes, their kids turn out exactly like their parents - aggressive, abusive, out of control. Other times, they turn out alright. They get by, picking up the pieces of their childhood to try to make the best of their life." His eyes softened a little bit. "And sometimes, though it doesn't happen very often, they make up for the bad their parent brought into the world. They become this beacon of light for everyone around them, even though they had a shitty childhood."

Hank nodded in Connor's direction.

"I know Natalie because of her father. I'm not gonna tell you everything - that's for her to tell on her own time - but I don't want anything about her father to affect what you think of her. Got it?"

Connor nodded earnestly.

Hank closed his eyes for a moment, then began.

"About 25 years ago, I worked on the DPD with a guy named Collin Rivers - Natalie's father. Well, he wasn't a father just yet - you know what I mean. Anyways, I worked with Collin for several years. We were partners for a short time while his partner was on maternity leave, and we nailed some pretty nasty guys. We did good work. He was a good cop, an even better guy to know. He and his wife, Myra, were really good people."

He paused for a moment, then continued.

"About four years later, they had a set of twins - Natalie and her brother, Joshua. They were a happy family - the picture of the American dream - for about three years. Joshua got sick, some kind of cancer I think. Anyway, he didn't make it. After that, things just weren't the same. Myra got depressed, Collin became a shell of the cop he used to be. That little girl, though, she was just a bright ray of sunshine throughout the whole thing."

Another sigh.

"Myra never did get out of that funk. About three years after Joshua died, she got sick too. They said it was something to do with her heart, but I think it was probably more than that. She died a few weeks later. That was the only time I ever saw Natalie cry. She was such a strong little girl, even when her dad was coming apart at the seams. He started getting aggressive, acting out, not showing up to work. One day, little nine-year old Natalie comes running into the DPD with a big red handprint on her cheek. She told me that her dad was meeting with some people who were carrying bags filled with money. I took a squad car out to their house with Reed, he was just in training at the time, and found Collin Rivers in the middle of a deal with the runners of a red ice ring. We'd been gathering intel on the cartel for months - it was the Red River Cartel. We managed to grab Rivers and three of the others, but the last guy got away. We never did find that guy. Come to find out, Rivers had been leading the ring for a few years, since Myra had died."

"Natalie had every right to be mad at the world. She coulda shut down, blocked out the world, turned to crime...but she didn't. Instead, she became this beacon of smiles and positivity. I don't know how she did it. She went through a lot of shit, even after her dad was arrested. But that's not for me to tell. She has to tell you that when she trusts you."

Connor leaned back in his seat and relaxed his clenched hands.

He hadn't realized that he had clenched them in the first place.

Hank took the last swig of his coffee and rubbed his hand over his eyes as Connor found himself experiencing something akin to surprise. She had seemed so pure, so innocent.

Like someone whose past wasn't a tribute to the horrors of humanity.

He supposed that was something the two of them had in common.


	7. Chapter 7: Bad Blood

Chapter Seven: Bad Blood

A dull thud resounded throughout the silence of the Detroit Police Department as Hank allowed his head to fall against the surface of the desk. He'd been combing through these files for hours, trying in vain to find something - _anything_ \- to help them figure out who this son of a bitch was. He racked his brain, searching for some clue about the missing member's identity, but nothing came to him.

He sighed audibly.

"Is there something wrong, Hank?" Connor asked from across the desk. Hank lifted his head to see his partner looking at him quizzically from the opposite side of his terminal, his LED cycling between a cool blue and a vibrant yellow.

"Nah," he shrugged, allowing his head to rest back upon the surface of the desk. "I'm just trying to remember who that guy was - the one I couldn't catch over a decade ago - and I can't remember a damn thing about him."

"So you are searching for, in essence, the one who got away?" Connor asked. Hank didn't have to raise his head to see the smirk that was surely plastered on Connor's face.

"Fuck off."

Connor leaned back in his seat, glancing at Hank's slumped shoulders. He then stood and walked through the hallway to where the break room was.

 _Though he would probably prefer whiskey, coffee is just going to have to suffice_ , he thought as he retrieved one of the biodegradable coffee cups from the counter. Shuffling footsteps approached him from behind as he prepared the coffee, but he didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Hey, Tinman," Reed said as he leaned against the counter next to Connor.

A bit too close.

"Hello, Detective," Connor responded, reaching over Gavin's head to retrieve a lid for the coffee. Reed's hand shot up and grabbed onto Connor's arm, pulling it down.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, trash can?" Reed snarled.

Connor sighed. To this, Reed scoffed, letting go of Connor's arm as his face progressively reddened.

"Fucking androids. They should've scrapped the whole lot of you when they had a chance." A slight grin appeared on his face. "Maybe I'll just have to do it for them."

Connor placed the lid on the coffee cup, then turned to face Gavin. Connor was a good three inches taller than Reed, which allowed him to look down on the detective.

"Perhaps the true issue here is your own sense of inadequacy, Detective. After all," he paused. "Androids were made to be superior."

Reed's face turned an alarming shade of magenta, and Connor hoped for a moment that he would cut off air supply to his brain long enough to pass out.

"You'd better watch your fucking mouth, you plastic prick," Reed growled under his breath.

Connor turned to face the door and took a few steps forward before pausing to face Reed again.

"I suggest you put the ruler away, Gavin. I would win."

He exited the break room, allowing a smile to cross his features as he heard Reed - for perhaps the first time since he'd known him - at a loss for words.

"What're you grinning about?" Hank asked when Connor set the coffee down on his desk.

"Nothing, Lieutenant," Connor said. The smirk stayed put.

Hank shook his head, looking back to his terminal. "Fuckin' weirdo."

A few more hours went by, and Hank still hadn't found out anything more about the runner who'd escaped. The coffee was gone, and Hank's motivation had disappeared with it.

There were times when Hank still found himself shocked at Collin Rivers' sudden transformation. Then again, he was one to talk.

The death of his son turned him into a suicidal alcoholic. The death of Rivers' son and wife turned him into a murderous drug ring leader.

Grief can do incredibly shitty things to a person.

Hank's thoughts wandered to Natalie, as they usually did whenever he thought about that night. She'd been through so much shit, even after her dad was arrested and the drug ring was disbanded (or, at least, they had THOUGHT it was disbanded).

He wondered how the same blood could run through Collin's and Natalie's veins. Even though Rivers had been one of his closest friends on the department, someone doesn't just turn into a murderous drug runner overnight - there has to be some predisposition beforehand.

Hank just wondered how he hadn't seen it.

He glanced over at Connor, who was immersed in the files as well. His LED was cycling that same amber hue it had been almost every day since the attack.

Since he'd met Natalie.

Hank smirked to himself. _God_ , he thought. _They're both so damn obvious, it's like knowing a train is going to wreck and all you can do is watch as it slowly approaches its inevitable destruction._

He wasn't too sure what would happen in the future between those two. They both had a rebellious streak that had landed them on Hank's shit list at one point or another. Putting them together?

Hank was getting too old for that shit.


	8. Chapter 8: A Warning

Chapter Eight: A Warning

Sundays were the only day that Hank and Connor had off. Thus, when Sunday rolled around, Connor took it upon himself to visit Jericho Tower.

He hadn't spoken to Markus since a few days after the revolution. Seeing as how the cartel had begun targeting androids and humans alike, however, Connor thought it would be best to warn the people at Jericho Tower himself.

As he stepped out of the automated vehicle onto the pavement in front of what used to be Cyberlife Tower, Connor felt what may have been a shudder pass through him. Perhaps the main reason he hadn't visited Jericho Tower was because he was highly reluctant to come back to where - as Hank liked to put it - CyberHell used to be.

The automated doors opened as Connor approached them. The harsh steel interior had been replaced with white linoleum, and the tinted windows of the previous inhabitants of the building had been replaced with clear glass, allowing the sunlight to stream into open entryway. Along the white walls were lined various paintings that depicted various stages of the revolution. The android march through the streets of Detroit. The destruction of Cyberlife stores. A pair of android hands with the artificial skin retracted, showing the smooth, white, plastimetal frame beneath. Connor leading an army of thousands from the depths of the building in which he stood now.

The final image along the entryway depicted Markus, North, and himself standing upon a shipping container as Markus spoke to the thousands of androids before him. In the bottom of the painting was a single line: "WE ARE ALIVE".

Connor recognized that these paintings were done by Markus. After Carl had died last year, he seemed to pick up the paint brush exactly where Carl had left off.

A voice pulled him out of his reverie.

"Connor!"

He turned to face the doors at the end of the entryway as Markus entered. His face was a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" He asked as he shook Connor's hand firmly.

Connor shrugged. "It was a spur of the moment decision, I suppose." He smiled.

Markus nodded. "Regardless, I'm glad you're here. It's been too long."

He and Connor walked through the doorway through which Markus had entered, then into one of the side offices that served as a conference room for delegations. Connor was surprised to see North lying on the surface of the table, as well as Josh seated on a chair near her left arm. Both looked to the door when it opened, and had similar reactions to Markus'.

"What brings you here?" Josh asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Josh?" North chided, fixing Connor with a sly expression. "He misses us."

Connor allowed a smile to cross his features before he shook his head. "Unfortunately, I'm here on business."

Markus tilted his head slightly as he cybernetically contacted Simon before sitting in one of the chairs at the conference table, . He motioned for Connor to do the same. Once Simon had arrived, Markus turned to face Connor.

"What is it?"

"Have any of you been acquainted with the Red River Cartel?"

The other four androids shook their heads slightly.

"Neither had we, until two weeks ago. We had a...well, a brief run-in with one of their members. Turns out they've been behind the android attacks involving electrocution prior to death."

Markus grimaced.

"How many have died?" He asked.

"Three androids have perished at the hands of the cartel." He didn't mention that he had almost been part of the statistic.

"A few nights ago, though, there was another attack. It was a human this time. We found a note with the victim that simply said, 'Maybe it isn't blue, but blood is blood. Come and get us.'"

The androids sat in silence for a moment.

"I hadn't heard about the human attack," Simon said quietly.

"We've been keeping it low profile until we know more. There's little benefit in causing a panic over a drug cartel on a killing spree with both androids and humans."

He leaned back in his chair before glancing at Markus.

"Has anyone unfamiliar approached Jericho Tower within the last few weeks, asking for sanctuary?"

Markus shook his head. "More of our people come to Jericho Tower seeking asylum every day. It's impossible to know who is and isn't familiar until they've been with us for quite some time."

Connor nodded.

"If anyone approaches you with information, you'll contact me immediately, correct?"

"Of course."

Connor stood from his seat and straightened his already immaculate tie. "I appreciate it."

Markus stood as well. "Must you leave so soon?"

"I have some other business to attend to, unfortunately," he paused. "I'll have to return sometime when it has nothing to do with more android deaths."

Markus stood with Connor outside of Jericho Tower as they waited for the automated vehicle to arrive. Though he'd never been the conversational type, Connor was particularly quiet as he fidgeted with the coin he always kept in his pocket.

"What's on your mind, Connor?"

He stopped rolling the coin across his fingers to look at Markus.

"What do you mean?"

"You're distracted, my friend. What's troubling you?" Markus asked.

Connor's thoughts had drifted to the case, and - subsequently - to Natalie. He had been troubled by Hank's revelation a few days prior. He never would have suspected Natalie to come from such a troubled past.

Instead, he said, "I'm untroubled, Markus."

Markus sighed, raising an eyebrow. _I suppose we're doing this the hard way_ , he thought as he grabbed Connor's arm.

Images of a young woman with bright blue eyes and a kind smile appeared in his processors. He heard her light laughter, watched as she mixed drinks with a deft precision -

Connor pulled his arm away, breaking the connection. He remained silent, though his face was flushed a slight blue. Markus smirked, once again looking straight ahead.

"What's her name?"

Connor hesitated.

"Natalie."

Markus nodded.

The two stood together in an awkward silence for a few more minutes before the automated vehicle approached.


	9. Chapter 9: Inferno

Chapter Nine: Inferno

Business was shockingly slow at Jimmy's Bar for it being six o'clock in the evening.

Then again, it _was_ a Wednesday.

Natalie served a few drinks every once in a while, though the customers that approached her bar were few and far between. She found herself leaning against the counter more often than not, occasionally sweeping the hair out of her eyes as she watched the football game that was currently playing above the counter.

She smirked as her grandmother's voice seemed to haunt her from the past.

" _If you have time to lean, you have time to clean!"_

 _Alright, Grandma, you win._ She thought to herself as she gathered the various shot glasses from where they were strewn upon the counter. Taking them into the back, she had just begun to wash them when she heard the bell of the front door ring. She stopped for a moment, then resumed her washing.

 _Ben's got it_ , she thought to herself.

She vaguely heard what sounded like a gruff voice, saying "Where is she?".

 _Ah, great, someone else's lost their wife to the booze_ , she snickered to herself.

"Who are you talking about?" Ben answered.

A laugh.

"Wrong answer."

BANG!

A gunshot pierced the air, followed by a loud thud. Screams followed soon after.

Natalie dropped the shot glass she was holding, hurrying out to the front of the bar as the small glass shattered on the floor.

The first thing she saw when she walked out was Ben, sprawled upon the floor, a bullet hole between his eyes.

She felt sick.

She saw the gun next.

Her eyes followed from the tip of the gun to the face of the man holding the weapon. The lower half of his face was obscured by a scraggly, unkempt beard, and his face was mottled with pit marks and scarring.

The eyes, though.

She would never have forgotten those eyes.

"Tom?"

Her voice was strong, despite the fact that her knees were shaking.

Tom smiled.

"Hello, Natalie. It's been a long time."

"We don't want any trouble, Tom."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Tom asked her, laughing. It was only then that Natalie noticed that he was flanked by two men with identical appearances and small LEDs circling in red.

 _Androids_.

"Heard what?" she asked as she reached for the drawer in front of her, where she kept her phone. The movements were slight and slow.

Hopefully Tom wouldn't notice as she discreetly typed out a text in what felt like slow motion.

"Your daddy confessed, sweetheart. You know what happens when a leader confesses?"

She didn't answer.

Tom only grinned. His smile was filled with gaps. The teeth he still had were cracked and yellowed.

"He done us wrong, honey."

 _Message sent._

The precinct was filled only with the sounds of typing and ruffling papers. There was very little chatter amongst the officers - quite frankly, everyone was far too tired to converse anyway.

Connor leaned back against his seat, closing his eyes. He and Hank had been searching these files relentlessly for days, hoping that they would find something hidden in the files if only they would _look_ hard enough.

Hank's phone vibrated on the surface of his desk.

He went pale as he read the message.

"What's wrong, Hank?"

Hank looked at him with wide eyes.

He never had the chance to say anything before the tones dropped.

A loud, piercing tone broke the silence of the DPD, followed by a series of numbers.

Fowler tore open the door of his office, already zipping up his jacket.

"Let's go, people! Arson resulting in a structure fire, they're requesting police backup! Address sent to your phones!" He was already out of the door.

Hank shot out of his seat, hardly remembering to grab his firearm as he rushed to the door with Connor close behind.

Hank hardly waited for Connor to close the door of the car before he peeled out of the parking lot.

"Hank, what is it?" Connor asked.

"It's Natalie, she texted me. I told her if she ever needed me, if it were an emergency, she just had to text me '911' and I would be there. She's at Jimmy's."

Connor's eyes widened.

That was where the structure fire was.

The entire building was entirely engulfed in flames by the time Hank threw the car into park.

"Who's still inside?!" He shouted above the chaos. Sirens pierced the air, alongside the panicked chatter of civilians and officers alike. Firefighters fought to battle the flames that seemed to lick the sky.

"There's one person trapped inside, she got everyone else out before the fire even star-"

That was all the officer got out before Connor was sprinting away.

Hank reached out to grab his jacket.

"Connor, no! Get back here, damn it!"

Connor wasn't listening, of course.

He broke through the barrier that had been set up by the firefighters as they attempted to control the blaze.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" a shout followed him as he forced himself through the barrier.

The front door to the bar had already burned away entirely. The heat inside was incredibly intense.

 _WARNING: Systems Overheating. Remove yourself from the environment immediately_.

 _No shit_ , he thought to himself.

"Natalie!" he called over the sound of the blaze.

A few moments passed.

"Connor?!" a voice called back from behind the bar counter.

Connor rushed to the entryway of the counter. Natalie was lying prone on the floor near the doorway to the back room. Her hands had been secured to the base of the counter with -

 _Oh, God,_ Connor thought to himself.

Her hands were tied with barbed wire, her wrists circled with blood.

"Connor, get out of here!" Natalie shouted. She didn't appear to be externally burned, but she was coughing profusely.

Connor retracted the skin from his hands as he grabbed ahold of the barbed wire and pulled.

The wire snapped easily between his fingers.

He grabbed onto her shoulders as he helped her off of the ground. He didn't feel the need to say anything in order to get her to move.

The ceiling above the bar had begun to collapse inward as the building toppled in on itself.

The two managed to exit the building just as the final supports of the building gave way. Dust and rubble scattered in every direction with a force that nearly knocked the two of them off of their feet.

"What the fuck were you thinking? You trying to get yourself fucking _killed_?!"

Even as Connor assured Hank there was no lasting damage, Hank's voice only seemed to rise in volume.

"You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?!"

"Hank, please, I'm fine," Connor said as he brushed the remaining rubble from his jacket.

Hank looked as though he wanted to say something else, before he shook his head and walked over to where Natalie was.

She sat at the back door of an ambulance as a paramedic checked her vitals and her airway. Her skin was covered with soot and ash, and she was still coughing through the nonrebreather mask strapped to her face. Her wrists were wrapped with thick gauze.

"How is she?" Hank asked, blatantly ignoring Connor as he stood next to him.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke, Lieutenant, but other than that, she's basically unharmed. Her wrists are going to take a few days to heal."

Here, the paramedic turned to face Connor with a look of appreciation.

"She probably wouldn't have made it if you didn't get her out when you did."

Connor only vaguely heard what he was saying as he continued to look over Natalie.

She was smiling, even through the coughing.

 _There's that smile again_ , Connor thought fondly.

He glanced at Hank, and was surprised to see that the Lieutenant was already looking at him.

"I'm still pissed at you."

Connor smiled.

"I know."

Natalie was cleared to leave about an hour later, once the paramedic was satisfied that her condition was improving.

"I wouldn't recommend you stay anywhere alone for the next few days. Respiratory problems can develop without any warning, and if you're alone, you might not be able to get help."

"She's staying with us for the next few days," Hank said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The decision had been unanimous.

As they were walking away from the scene of the blaze, they stopped to look at the rubble.

"Do you need to grab anything from your house, Nat?" Hank asked her. She laughed.

"I can't exactly do that, Hank."

"Where do you live, anyways?"

She swept one of her arms to gesture to the remains of the bar.

"You're looking at it."


	10. Chapter 10: Sleepless Nights

Chapter Ten: Sleepless Nights

 _ **TW: Mentions of Self Harm; I'll put ***** before and after the section so you won't have to read it!**_

There was only one person that Sumo seemed to love as much as he did Connor.

That person was Natalie.

She was nearly tackled by the weight of the massive St. Bernard as he barreled at her in the entryway. Though Connor attempted to get him off of her, Sumo won the battle, ultimately taking Natalie with him to the ground.

"Hey, Sumo!" She laughed as she was buried beneath the massive dog.

Eventually, Hank and Connor were able to pry Sumo off of Natalie long enough for her to stand up. She managed to make it as far as the couch before Sumo pressed his weight against her legs again.

Connor sat down next to where Natalie had fallen on the couch. Though he attempted to get Sumo off of her, he eventually resolved to burying his hands in Sumo's thick fur.

Hank shook his head, sighing as he walked down the hall toward the bedroom.

"You know where the food is, make yourself at home, Nat. I'm going to bed," Hank called back before he closed the door.

Once the excitement of their arrival had subsided, Sumo resolved himself to lying down on the floor in front of the couch, effectively preventing either Connor or Natalie from leaving.

Natalie attempted to brush some of the dog hair off of her clothes, but once she saw the singed marks, she gave up.

"Ah, well, the shirt's ruined anyways, what's the point in trying to get a little dog hair off?" She laughed, leaning back into the couch.

Connor found himself searching her face for something, though he wasn't quite sure what it was. Though she was covered in soot, her eyes were just as bright, and her smile was just as genuine.

"Are you okay, Natalie?" he asked softly.

She bit her lip slightly, tilted her head to the side.

"Of course, Connor, why wouldn't I be?" She asked.

He shrugged, looking down.

His eyes drifted to the gauze on her wrists. "Does it hurt?"

She let her eyes drop slightly.

"Nah, not really. I've had much worse," she said, albeit a bit quieter.

Connor's eyes drifted up the skin of her arms. Periodically, there were scars along her arms. Some of them were thin and faint. Others were wide, seemingly deep.

Connor looked back up to Natalie's face, his face flushing blue.

"I - Natalie, I didn't -"

"It's okay, Connor," she cut him off, though not with anger. "I was a teenager, I was going through some stuff...I'm okay now. Well, at least, I'm a little more okay than I used to be."

Connor's eyes drifted back to the scars, and was surprised when Natalie made no move to pull her arms away. He lifted his hand, gently running a fingertip along one of the scars that seemed particularly deep. The touch was so light that Natalie hardly felt it.

He quickly pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry -"

"Connor, seriously, it's okay," she grabbed his hand as he pulled it away. "I trust you."

She released his hand, and it fell back to the couch between the two of them.

Connor made an attempt to change the topic. "How long did you live above the bar?"

Natalie shrugged. "Four, maybe five years? I'm not sure."

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

She looked at him, smiling. "I'll just have to start over. That place was never going to be a home, anyways."

The two of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of cars as they passed lazily along the street outside, along with the occasional huff from Sumo.

Connor noticed Natalie shiver slightly. "Are you cold?"

Natalie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Maybe? Depends on why you're asking, Connor," she grinned.

Connor shook his head slightly.

"Come here," he said quietly.

She shifted her position slightly to where she was sitting next to Connor. To her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer until her head rested on his chest. He leaned backward slightly to allow her to be more comfortable.

"Better?" He asked.

Natalie smiled slightly. "That was pretty smooth, Connor."

He couldn't help but smile.

As Natalie gradually warmed up, she relaxed onto Connor. The warmth from his body coupled with the strong thumping of his Thirium pump lulled her into a sound sleep within minutes.

Connor entered into his rest cycle just a few moments later.


	11. Author's Update!

Hey everyone!

Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews and for continuing to read! I am SO sorry about the rather sudden hiatus, I've been going through some health issues over the last month and unfortunately haven't gotten around to continuing the story.

I promise this story isn't over, though! I hope to post again once my health improves, which will hopefully be within the next week or so.

Thank you so much for the continued support, and I promise that Connor, Natalie, Hank, and I will see you soon!

Much love,

-DeviantDaydream 3


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